


Mixed Messages

by Carolyn_Spencer



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolyn_Spencer/pseuds/Carolyn_Spencer
Summary: This was originally written for the KiScon 1999 writing contest and published in The KiScon Zine in April of that year by Jenna Sinclair.  The rules of the contest were simple: the stories were limited to ten pages in length, the subject had to be K/S, and one of the following words had to be included: duck, circumnavigate, or trauma.Mixed Messages won second place.
Relationships: James T. Kirk - Relationship, Spock - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Mixed Messages

“Breaded llamas?”

“That _is_ what I said, Doctor.”

“Sounds like a recipe to me. Sure you're not turning into a carnivore, Spock?”

“Doctor McCoy, I hardly think it is within your purview as this ship's chief medical officer to insult me.” Spock rose from his chair and headed for the door of the doctor's office.

“Sit down, Spock.”

“It seems you have nothing of value to contribute, McCoy, and I have tasks that require my attention, so--”

“Sit, I said.”

Spock returned to his seat.

“Have you told Jim?”

“Have I informed the captain that a random, unconnected, illogical phrase referring to a domesticated animal indigenous to the plains of what was formerly called South America, Earth is constantly running through the mind of his first officer, and said phrase is distracting him from his assigned duties aboard this vessel?”

“Sarcasm doesn't become you, Spock. Have you?”

Spock found a very interesting spot on the wall precisely one-half meter to the right of McCoy's head. “No.”

“In fact you've been avoiding him, haven't you?”

“I refuse to respond to questions to which you think you have already discerned the answer, and--”

“You have.”

Brown eyes snapped back to meet blue. “Yes.”

The infuriating sparkle that lurked in the doctor's eyes suddenly warmed to something else. “Look, Spock, it's only been three days since we got you back from the Eymorg's planet, and--”

“Yes, Doctor. Three days. Three days since you performed emergency brain surgery of a type that has never before been attempted.” A thoughtful look passed across the first officer's face. “Ah, I have it. There was a serious oversight on your part.”

“And that was?”

“You neglected to take your beads and rattles with you, and obviously--”

“Spock, I'm not going to cross wits with you on this one. We've talked about this before. These random phrases are just your brain's way of trying to make sense of words you overheard while you were unconscious during the mission. Or maybe even before. You can't rush these things. The neural connections are just a little screwed up right now. They'll settle---”

“'Screwed up', Doctor? A professional medical assessment, if ever--” Spock abruptly looked down at the tightly clasped hands in his lap. After a few moments he looked up. “How long, McCoy?”

“I know, Spock, I know. Just give it a few more days.”

“A very imprecise time limit.” Spock rose from the chair and once again headed for the door. There was a warm compassionate feeling in the air he was only too anxious to escape. “Very well.”

“And Spock?”

“Yes?”

“Same time tomorrow. Sixteen hundred hours. Don't be late.”

As the statement did not require an answer, Spock didn't give one. He took one more step toward the door.

“Spock?”

_Even compassion could be carried to extremes._ Spock sighed. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Talk to Jim. He's worried about you.”

_He is not the only one._

*****

Spock headed for the turbolift with his usual determined pace. It was difficult to attain the concentration needed for his daily shift with the odd distracting phrases constantly running through his head. And in addition, there was the pressing thought of a task left undone, a question left unanswered. Quite an important one if the frequency of the thought was anything to judge by.

Entering the lift, Spock requested the bridge.

He stood for a moment as the doors opened, relishing the order, each person at his or her assigned station, the stars sliding peacefully by at a sedate warp one. And just the top of a bronzed head and broad shoulders indicated that Jim was where he belonged, in the center seat. There was a time, down on the Eymorg's planet when he didn't think he would see the stars again. Nor Jim. He took a deep breath.

_But Jim came for me._ Would always come for him, Spock realized.

The center seat revolved until the warmth of gold-green eyes found his, and Spock lowered his gaze against the concern he found there. Moving out of the lift, he headed for the comfortable security of the science station and logged in.

The command chair creaked. Spock quickly found something to do with his hands. It hardly mattered. Soft footsteps, a determined stride, a hand laid gently on his shoulder. A low voice. “Are you all right?”

Spock briefly closed his eyes, opened them, drew a long breath and turned. “Perfectly, Captain.”

“Would you like to circumnavigate a duck?”

Spock swallowed heavily. “I...I beg your pardon. I...”

“Spock, what is it? You've gone pale as a ghost.” Kirk turned to Uhura. “Get McCoy up here, and--”

“No!” Consciously Spock lowered his voice. “No, Captain, please.” _A question. Not the important...the crucial question, but a question nonetheless._ And he must answer. “I...what did you ask me?”

“Shift's almost over. I just asked if you wanted to have dinner with me, but you're not well.” Something darkened in Kirk's eyes. “McCoy should never have let you--”

“Captain...Jim...I am... It is all right. I was momentarily distracted.”

“But--”

Quickly Spock stood and carefully eased himself away. “I...I must check the circumnavigational computer in auxiliary control. It has been acting irrationally and--”

In the sudden silence that followed, Spock realized what he had said. “I...I meant the _navigational_ computer, of course. If you will excuse me, Captain?”

For an interminable moment, he didn't think Jim would let it go, but then Kirk's shoulders straightened slightly, and the captain stepped back.

Spock found he could breathe again. “Of course you did. Permission granted.”

The walk to the lift had never seemed so long. The bridge never so quiet. The doors never took so long to close. Finally, however they did, and Spock sagged against the wall. “Auxiliary Control,” sent the lift on its way.

The room was deserted as he knew it would be. Spock flipped the switch that locked the door and sank into the seat before the auxiliary navigation panel, staring at it dully. A face, drawn and still stared back at him, reflected from the sleek black durosteel casing, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _I shall have to leave the ship. I cannot fulfill my duties as first officer in this manner. Jim requires... Jim._

Spock's shoulder ached at the site of Kirk's touch. _Leave the ship? Leave Jim?_ Inconceivable thought. Grimly he grasped the panel with both hands. _Never to see those changeable gold-green eyes again? Nor bask in the warmth of that smile?_ Impossible.

_Would you like to circumnavigate a duck?_ Ridiculous question. Absurd. _Concentrate. Control. Analyze. Circumnavigate: to travel around a land form, such as an island, a continent, a world. Duck: one of several species of small aquatic fowl found on Terra._ Spock groaned. What did that have to do with Jim asking him a question? 

Jim looking up at him with hope in his eyes, and asking....

And then something clicked. Jim's face...Jim's face tilted up at him...asking him a question. A vital question. And something lurked in those eyes. Something half afraid, half confident. Open. Offering. Waiting for an answer. An answer he had, as yet, not given. _Because their duty shift was about to begin,_ he realized. The shift that ultimately was interrupted by Kara of Sigma Draconis VI.

Abruptly he rose from the chair and headed to sickbay.

McCoy was in the outer office when Spock stuck his head in the door. “Head trauma,” he pronounced.

“What? Where?” The doctor grabbed his med-kit. 

“No, McCoy. 'Breaded llamas.' I must have heard you speaking to the captain about my condition, and somehow the words became twisted into--”

“Breaded llamas.”

“Yes.”

“I knew those neural--”

But Spock was already gone.

*****

Standing in front of the captain's cabin, Spock took a deep breath, swallowed once and pressed the buzzer.

“Come.”

He took two steps into the room and waited for the door to close behind him. Kirk was seated behind the desk, head slightly raised from where he had been holding his face in his hands. Spock wasn't quite sure how to interpret the expression he saw there. Despair? Hope? 

“It wasn't 'would you like to circumnavigate a duck?' The words somehow became distorted, twisted.”

“Spock? What?” Then very slowly, “Spock, you are scaring the shit out of me.”

“I am doing this badly.” Another deep breath. “I remember the last private conversation we had, and the question you asked me.”

Kirk slowly rose from the chair and walked to meet him. “You do?” Said so softly.

“I love you, too, Jim.”

Kirk began to smile. The joy and promise in that smile warmed Spock as the suns of his homeland never had.

Spock took the last step that separated them, placed his hands on Jim's uplifted face and pressed his lips gently to the mouth of the man who was his home now.

“And the answer to your question is 'Yes, I would like to fuck around.'”


End file.
